


For Sun or for Shit

by BlondePomeranian



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen, Intervention, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9612632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlondePomeranian/pseuds/BlondePomeranian
Summary: Just prior to Act III, Varric meets Fenris over a drink to discuss a mutual friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written originally only as the conversation part of it, then edited to include blocking. I feel good about how the posturing came out, but as ever, my word choice in describing action and dialogue tags needs work, so here we are.
> 
> Also, alternatively titled: "Papa Bear Varric".

“You wanted to see me?”

“Ah, just the broody elf I’ve been waiting for. Have a seat. I’ll get you a drink.”

“I went ahead and got one,” Fenris said, setting it down on the table as he took a seat. “When someone wants to talk, I’ve learned its best to meet their words with a drink.”

Varric chuckled. “Guess it’s off Hawke’s coin either way then. Speaking of...” he said, leaning in so he could be heard over the din of the tavern. He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “You can probably guess what I’m here to talk about.”

Fenris’ gaze remained impassive even as he fidgeted with the red wrap on his wrist. “I suppose it would be whom, if I do.”

Varric hummed lowly. He paused, staring at his folded hands. “…Look, I’ll get right to the point here. You know why she chose you—you, of all people, right?”

Putting his mug down after a drink, a smirk briefly cracked through his steely veneer. “I take it it’s not my gregarious personality and rugged charms, then?”

“I’ll let her be the judge of that.” Varric returned the congeniality. Maker help him, he needed all the good blood he could get before what was coming. “But think about it, broody. Why does Hawke get us involved in all of Kirkwall’s dirty laundry all the time?”

Fenris gave him a hard stare through narrowed eyes. He kept his silence with a suspicious tilt of his head.

Varric took a big swig of his ale. “I’ll tell you why,” he said, setting his mug down with a thud. “It’s because she’s that big sister type—the bleeding heart type, too.”

Fenris frowned. “I… hardly see _sisterly_ as an apt descriptor for our relationship.”

“Alright then, how about this: she’s a fixer. She sees something broken, she swoops in and has to fix it, Seeing it now?”

Fenris avoided Varric’s pointed stare, leaning back and drumming his fingers on the adjacent chair.

Varric shook his head. “Look, I’m not trying to say that’s all there is to it—“

“Then what _are_ you trying to say?”

Varric’s stare was as hard and sharp as Bianca’s. “Hawke is my best friend. I know her better than anyone—well, anyone alive—and you and her are… different.”

“Her and I have been over this, in _private_ ,” Fenris said, looking away. His grip tightened around his mug, but his voice remained level as he added, “Your concern and this intercession in this matter are unnecessary.”

“The hell it is! She’s _enamored_ with you, thinking that you’re the little bird with the broken wing that she can nurse back to health. I’ve already been there for her once when that bird turned out to be a snake, and I’ll be damned if I have to sit here and watch her get bit again.”

A crack slithered up Fenris’ glass of ale. A deep growl rumbled in his voice. “You know nothing of what happened. Do not make light of what you do not understand.”

Varric shook his head. “Sure, fine, but see here’s the thing. _I’m_ the one having to suck out the damn venom and whatever the hell _did_ happen poisoned her for good. And I know a thing or two about poison. She’s got it in her head that there’s gotta be a light at the end of all this, that you’ll come back and let her fix you, and you’ll all live happily ever after. I might not know you like she does, but I do know enough to know a steaming pile of nug shit when I smell it. It won’t work.”

“You think I don’t know this?” He said, voice just audible over the noise of the tavern. He rubbed at his temples with one hand, Hawke’s favor covering his eyes from Varric’s view. “That part of me is… it does not exist.” He put his hand away, revealing a glower hard and cold as stone. “Not anymore.”

Just as he was accustomed to doing during any meeting at Hanged Man, Varric showed his hand and played the last card in his hand. “Then stay away from her.”

The corner of his lip raised, caught somewhere between a snarl and a smirk. He leaned forward, challenging, “And what if she comes to me, dwarf? Would you have me cut off her arm to save a bite on the hand?”

Varric jabbed a finger towards him. “Better one-armed than dead.”

“Do that one more time and you’ll find out which is better.”

Varric threw his hands up with a bitter laugh. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere. Y’see, that’s all I’m asking you to think about. You already hurt her once, now you gotta decide how you’re gonna hurt her again.”

“I’m not—“

“But you are! That’s exactly what you’re doing! You’re playing the asshole care thinking you can push her away when really you’re also doing everything in your power to draw her back in. This little dance you’ve got going on isn’t fooling anyone but Hawke.”

A blue light flashed like lightning and his deep, rumbling voice was the thunder that followed. “ _Enough_.” Fenris shot up, knocking his chair backwards and slamming his hands down on the table. “I see no point in lingering further. Whatever choice Hawke makes is her own.” He leaned in, teeth exposed in a snarl as he said, “And know this, dwarf: I would sooner return to my life in Tevinter than hurt her like you accuse of me.”

Varric didn’t flinch. “Then love her, or leave.”

The tense silence hung in the air between them by a thread, threatening to come crashing down at the slightest move. He knew Fenris wouldn’t back down, and in truth he had no desire to run him off. When pressed between the stone and a hard place, though, he was still a dwarf. Some long-held, cherished bonds were worth the price they demanded.

Even still, he was a surfacer, and an Andrastian, at that, so he was the first to break the silence. He sighed. “It’s nothing personal, broody. I’m just trying to do you both a favor and forewarn you of the impending shitstorm.” He shook his head and reached for his drink. “So, either make amends, start anew, be her little birdie—do whatever it is you two do—or leave, and don’t come back.”

Fenris scoffed. Turning to leave, he said, “You’d do well to mind your own business.”

Varric watched him leave with a narrowed, stone hard stare. Once he was out of sight, he felt himself deflate with a heavy groan. “Don’t I know it.”

No doubt he’d set some kind of plan into motion, but whether he’d need to prepare for sun or for shit remained to be seen. He’d just have to hope for now that Hawke was ready to face what lurked on the horizon: unspoken truths, unrealized hopes, and untraveled paths.

_And trouble_ , Varric thought as he finished off his drink. _Lots and lots of trouble_.

 


End file.
